Hidden Evil
by Alexa
Summary: I'm baaaack! I hope some of you remember me - I haven't posted since April due to a very severe case of writer's block.
1. Default Chapter Title

A/N: Does anybody remember me? Pleeeaaaassseeee remember me! J/K. Here I am, back after about four months and an exceptionally bad case of writer's block. I started writing this on my vacation, and then finally got around to typing it up. This is kind of different from my usual stuff - it's not in first person PoV, and it has a little more of a plot (which, considering the pathetic plots of my other stories, isn't saying much!) Please read and review!  
  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing's mine (sniffle), everything is the brilliant, fabulous, wonderful J.K. Rowling's.  
  
  
  
Harry Potter was a boy of skill. At the age of eleven, he was the youngest Quidditch player his school had seen in a century. Harry Potter was a boy of intelligence. At the age of twelve, he could speak to snakes and had twice outwitted the most deadly wizard the world had ever seen. Harry Potter was a boy of adventure. By the age of fourteen, he had survived four attacks of the same evil wizard, Lord Voldemort. So naturally, when Harry Potter felt a twinge of apprehension upon beginning his seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, there was undoubtedly something to worry about.  
  
  
As seventeen year old Harry Potter entered King's Cross station that September, he felt a bit of nervousness mixed in with the usual pang of excitement he felt at the beginning of each term. Danger was coming this year - he could tell. So what else is new, he thought wryly, as he pushed his heavy cart toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten. He yawned and checked his watch as he went, trying to look natural - or as natural as one could look while pushing a cart loaded with a trunk and an owl at a solid metal wall. But as he reached the barrier, it melted around him and he stepped easily through it, grinning at the familiar platform nine and three quarters. Witches and wizards bustled about, saying good-byes, dragging trunks, greeting friends. Harry greeted many familiar faces as he wheeled his cart through the crowd, but he was looking for two in particular. He found them before long - they weren't hard to miss. At least not for him.  
  
  
He saw Ron first - his freckled face searching over the crowd, his fingers running through his brilliant red hair. He broke into a grin when he saw Harry, and waved him over. Beside him stood Hermione - a sweet faced, frizzy haired girl, who was grinning broadly. They both ran toward him as he broke free of the crowd.  
  
  
"There you are!" said Ron as Hermione hugged him. "We were worried when we couldn't find you."  
  
  
"I'm fine," said Harry, high fiving Ron as Hermione let go of him.  
  
  
"You've grown!" she exclaimed, standing back to get a better look, "you're nearly as tall as Ron now."  
  
  
Harry grinned as he glanced up at Ron's six foot frame. "Not quite. You've grown, too," he added, surveying Hermione. It had been less than three months since he last saw her, but she looked a good two inches taller all the same. Ron grinned.  
  
"What about me?" he asked with a look of mock insult, "have I grown at all?"  
  
  
"No - thank goodness," said Hermione, and they all laughed. In all their seven years of friendship, Ron had towered over the other two. It was nice, Harry decided, to look up at him from a mere two inches below, rather than five.  
  
  
Hermione checked her watch and glanced at the scarlet train. "We'd better get going, you know. The train leaves in fifteen minutes." The three of them loaded their trunks into an empty compartment and settled into their seats. Hermione pulled out the year's course books as usual, and Harry and Ron exchanged amused glances. Though Hermione had loosened up about schoolwork over the years, it didn't stop her from knowing the textbooks by heart before the term started. Knowing that it would be awhile before they managed to pry her away from the pages, Harry and Ron started up a lively conversation about Quidditch. Ron was convinced that the Chudley Cannons were up for the league title, while Harry argued that the local Hogsmeade team would beat them out.  
  
  
After awhile, Harry straightened up. "I think I'll go have a look around," he told the others, "I haven't seen anyone in three months, except for the Dursleys." Ron and Hermione nodded, and Harry slid the door of the compartment open and stepped into the hallway that stretched across the car. As he closed the door behind him, he couldn't help but notice that he hadn't managed to shake off the queasy, nervous feeling he'd had ever since he'd entered the station. He went off in search of Dean and Seamus, and hoped that whatever lay ahead wasn't more than he was used to.  
  
  
***  
  
  
Ron glanced sideways at Hermione as Harry left the compartment. Her nose was still buried in her Transfiguration book, and she looked oddly peaceful as she brushed a stray curl out of her face.  
  
  
"Hermione - " he began. She glanced up at him, sensing a joke.  
  
  
"Don't even start," she told him, smiling, "I've had enough teasing from you to last me a lifetime."  
  
  
"I wasn't going to tease you," Ron said indignantly, "I was only wondering why you were wasting our last ride to Hogwarts reading about the transformation of the ancient saber-toothed tigers."  
  
  
She smiled ruefully and closed her book. "I suppose you're right," she said with a sigh. She set the book down beside her and went to stand in front of the compartment window. Ron joined her there, without speaking. Hermione sighed again. "I wish we had another year after this. I don't want this to be the end." The curl had fallen in front of her face again. Ron reached to push it back behind her ear, and she leaned her head against his shoulder.  
  
  
"I know what you mean," he said quietly, putting his arm around her, "I don't want this to be the end either." They stood that way for several minutes, watching the greens, yellows and blues rush past the window.  
  
  
"I wonder where Malfoy's got to," Ron said, trying to ease the tension a bit. "We haven't had our annual unwelcome visit from him yet." Hermione grinned up at him.  
  
  
"Unwelcome is right. Though it is fun to kick him out - I've never found trying out new spells quite as much fun on anyone else."  
  
  
"Mmm. The best was when we tried out the truth charm."  
  
  
"Ugh. I think there were a few things in there we'd've been better off not knowing." She reached up and put her arms around his neck. Ron laughed down at her.  
  
  
"Like the fact that Goyle had the hots for you?" She cringed at the memory. "Don't worry," he told her reassuringly, "you're too good for him."  
  
  
"You'd better believe it," Hermione told him, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek.  
  
  
They sat back down on the compartment bench, Ron leaning sleepily against the wall, while Hermione picked up her Transfiguration book again and stretched her legs across Ron's lap, her back up against the side wall. They sat silently for awhile, until Hermione spoke. "Ron?"  
  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
  
"Were you….nervous coming here? I just have this creepy feeling - I've had it ever since I got here, and I can't seem to shake it off." Ron sat up straight and looked at Hermione in slight alarm.  
  
  
"Yeah. I dunno what it is, but it's as if coming here was dangerous or something." Hermione glanced around uneasily.  
  
  
"It's probably nothing to worry about."  
  
  
Ron nodded. "We can ask Harry if he's worried, too." They both jumped slightly as the compartment door slid open. To their relief, it was Harry who stepped through.  
  
  
"Ask me what?" he said, shutting the door carefully behind him. Hermione and Ron exchanged an anxious glance.  
  
  
"Um, Harry…." Hermione began, searching for words, "did you feel kind of…nervous coming here? Because Ron and I both have this feeling that something's wrong." Harry looked uncomfortable.  
  
  
"Um - yeah. I did. I do now. But - it can't be anything worse than usual, can it? I mean, we've survived every year before this."  
  
  
"Yeah - maybe we're just paranoid." Ron smiled, and then hastily changed the subject. "How about a game of Exploding Snap?"  
  
  
"You two go ahead," said Hermione absently, reaching for her History of Magic book, I think I'll read for awhile…."  
  
  
Ron and Harry rolled their eyes.  
  
  
***  
  
  
Meanwhile, a certain someone stood outside their compartment door, grinning evilly.  
  
  
"So - Potter's worried. Always a good sign." Draco Malfoy pushed a lock of pale blond hair out of his eyes. "He should be, too. He'll never guess what we've got in store for him this year."  
  
  
The two hulking figures beside him grinned maliciously. They slunk silently back to their compartment, Draco patting the wand in his pocket affectionately as he went.  
  
  
***  
  
  
Harry entered his familiar dormitory much later and flopped onto his bed. It felt wonderful to be back. Already, he had stuffed himself with delicious food from the feast, insulted Draco Malfoy, and teamed up with Ron in teasing Hermione endlessly about being Head Girl. She had stormed up to bed in outrage (though not before she'd given them both a hug good-night). Now he lay spread-eagled across his bed, wondering about the only thing that had bothered him the entire day - the queasy feeling he'd had in King's Cross station. And Ron and Hermione were getting it too….he shivered slightly. There was something he hadn't told them when they'd questioned him in the train compartment. His scar had burned.  
  
  
It hadn't bothered him at all - not until he'd reentered the compartment after visiting with Dean and Seamus. He hadn't told them because - well - they were Ron and Hermione. They over-reacted to that sort of thing. And he didn't have a scrap of suspicion toward either of them in his mind - perhaps Lord Voldemort had gone on a killing spree at that moment and Harry had gotten a blast of it. His scar always hurt whenever the Dark Lord inflicted pain on another - it burned in hatred. Perhaps that was the reason. It was certainly possible - and quite likely. But then, it had been bothering him all day…He'd have to keep an eye out for the headlines in the Daily Prophets that Hermione always had delivered.  
  
  
Enough thinking for one night. Exhausted and stuffed to bursting from the feast, Harry pulled off his glasses, rolled over, and immediately fell asleep.  
  
  
***  
  
  
Hermione met up with Ron and Harry in the common room the next morning, and the three of them headed down to breakfast together. Breakfast was quite an interesting experience that morning - it included quite a bit of teasing Hermione about her schedule, and a cinnamon roll aimed skillfully at Ron's head. It also included the Daily Prophet Hermione had put in a subscription for, something Harry seemed unusually interested in.  
  
  
"Hermione - can I have a quick look?"  
  
  
"Of course, Harry," she said, confused, but handing him the paper nonetheless. "Why?"  
  
  
"No reason," he said nonchalantly. He began to scan the headlines. Hermione turned to exchange a puzzled glance with Ron, but the look she got in return was a very disgruntled one. She sighed as he finished mopping the frosting off his forehead.  
  
  
"I'm sorry about - that," she told him. He shrugged, and then broke into a grin.  
  
  
"I suppose I deserved it."  
  
  
"Damn right. But I love you anyway." She turned back to Harry as he refolded the paper and set it down on the table, wearing an expression of relief and worry mixed together. "What's with you and the Daily Prophet, Harry?"  
  
  
"Wha - oh, nothing," he said quickly, reaching for the syrup.  
  
  
"You sure?" said Hermione, picking up the paper and leafing through it. "Anything interesting?"  
  
  
"No." Harry's voice was muffled by a mouthful of pancakes.  
  
  
"Maybe not in there," said Ron, examining his schedule, "but on here it says that Transfiguration starts in -" he checked his watch "- seven minutes and twenty-three seconds."  
  
  
"It does?" said Hermione in alarm, "oh - it takes that long to get there! Come on!" She polished off her orange juice, threw the newspaper into her bag, and dragged Harry and Ron out of the Great Hall.  
  
  
A/N #2: Okay, stupid so far….I have no idea where this is going, which is never a good sign:-Þ Please review - I want to know if I should keep going. 


	2. Default Chapter Title

A/N: Okay, here's the next installment. Sorry this took so long to get up. MAJOR writer's block….yuck. Yuck and a half. Read, review and enjoy!!  
  
  
For Sherry, the awesome author who has me going insane wondering what's going to happen in the next chapter of Black Glass (and Silent Night!) and for Lyra, for finding out every possible synonym for 'rule breaker'. Luv ya both!  
  
  
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it. I stole the little snoring bit from Friends, though...I don't own that either.  
  
  
Harry groaned as he, Ron, and Hermione trooped out of Care of Magical Creatures and toward the greenhouses for Herbology. He normally didn't mind Herbology - it was actually rather fun to work with all the exotic plants. But this year they were forced to go through it with the Slytherins, which made Harry a bit nervous. Beside the fact that the Slytherin gang was not a pleasant bunch to be around, many of the plants were quite dangerous, Harry didn't trust any of the Slytherins for a second with anything poisonous. The only upside to this was that they no longer had Care of Magical Creatures with the Slytherins.  
  
  
Harry sighed in disappointment as they reached the greenhouses - it was going to be a long hour.  
  
  
Professor Sprout began to explain the day's task, and Ron and Hermione sent Harry up for materials. He picked up a spade and began to fill his flowerpot with soft soil, taking care not to spill any. Professor Sprout, despite her wild tangle of hair and the dirt under her fingernails, was adamant about keeping the greenhouses sanitary. As he dipped his shovel in again, there was a clink as it hit another one, and as Harry looked up to apologize, he found himself face to face with Draco Malfoy.  
  
  
"Well, Potter," Malfoy said as Harry glared, "fancy seeing you here."  
  
  
"Quite," said Harry sarcastically, looking back to his soil. "What do you want?"  
  
  
"Nothing, Potter, nothing. You get suspicious easily, don't you? One might think you were an auror. Carry on like that and you'll turn into Mad-Eye Moody."  
  
  
"Funny, Malfoy. Very funny." Harry picked up his flowerpot and a small bag of seeds and started back to Ron and Hermione. But he had only just stalked past Malfoy when a searing pain shot across his scar. He nearly dropped his pot as he stopped short and looked wildly around, but everyone else was busy with their seeds. He glanced suspiciously at Malfoy, looking for a sign of a curse from him, but his wand was nowhere near his hands. It was sticking out of the front pocket of his robes, obviously untouched. Malfoy smirked at Harry as he pushed his way back to Ron and Hermione, rubbing his forehead.  
  
  
"What's up?" Ron asked, catching the look on Harry's face.  
  
  
"Malfoy."  
  
  
"Oh." Ron nodded knowingly. "Idiot. What'd he do this time?"  
  
  
"The usual," said Harry, taking a small handful of seeds. He wasn't about to go into details - he didn't want to tell Ron and Hermione about his scar until he had some kind of lead as to what it meant. And so far he had nothing, he thought, discouraged, as he dropped the seeds into the little holes Hermione had poked in the soil. There hadn't been anything in the Daily Prophet…his head snapped up at the sound of a loud clatter at the front of the room. Malfoy had thrown himself backward, and the plant in front of him was about six feet tall - it stretched to the top of the greenhouse.  
  
  
"Very good, Mr. Malfoy," Professor Sprout squealed, hurrying over to examine his plant. Harry turned to Ron and Hermione, perplexed.  
  
  
"Since when is Malfoy 'very good' at Herbology?"  
  
  
Ron shrugged. "Since when is Malfoy 'very good' at anything?"  
  
  
Hermione was frowning, leafing through her Herbology book. "It says here that 'when planted correctly and handled with care and affection, seeds may reach an astounding height of six feet within seconds after watering.'" She closed the book, still frowning. "Since when does Malfoy handle anything with care and affection? And he obviously planted them correctly - since when does he do that?"  
  
  
"I dunno," said Ron, sprinkling water over the seeds, "must've cheated somehow…" All three of them jumped back as their seeds shot up.  
  
  
***  
  
  
The next week was rather uneventful - Snape was still horrible, Hermione was the only one who could transform her tiny white mouse into a piece of cheese, and Harry was still checking the Daily Prophet every morning. He had never explained why he did so, and Ron and Hermione were left to invent possible reasons. The only difference was that Malfoy seemed to have had a sizeable IQ increase over the summer - not only was he doing well in Herbology and Potions (which they STILL had with the Slytherins), but Harry, Ron and Hermione had found a top score Transfiguration essay on the ground outside the library with Malfoy's name on it. They were lucky enough to get a firsthand sample of this new knowledge in the second week of term.  
  
  
They'd been leaving History of Magic, Harry and Ron rubbing their eyes while Hermione stuffed three pages of notes into her bag, planning to head to the common room during break. Ron turned to head down the corridor and found himself face to face with the large, boulder-like Crabbe. He jumped backward in surprise, knocking into Harry. Within seconds Malfoy had appeared in front of them, smirking.  
  
  
"Still getting clumsier, Weasley? Most of us passed that stage about five years ago."  
  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "Well, you're not most people, are you, Malfoy?" He turned to leave with Harry and Hermione, but Malfoy stopped him.  
  
  
"Just a second, Weasley."  
  
  
Ron turned, annoyed. "Shove off, Malfoy. What are you going to do, curse me?" he added as Malfoy raised his wand. In a flash, Ron had whipped out his own and cried, "Expelliarmus!" The jet of light that burst from Ron's wand flew at Malfoy - but he muttered something inaudible and the beam switched directions and speeded back toward Ron. Ron stood open-mouthed in surprise for a moment, and then came to his senses and flung himself to the floor. The spell hit a third year behind him and her bag went flying - it hit the floor with a thud and books, parchment and quills spilled everywhere. Hermione rushed to help her as Malfoy left, that ever-annoying smirk plastered across his face. Ron and Harry stared after him, astonished, Harry holding his head. After a moment they came to their senses and Harry helped Ron off the floor.  
  
  
"Malfoy can repel spells?"  
  
  
"Apparently so. I wonder where he learned it?"  
  
  
Ron shrugged. "Beats me. Hey - look! It's a miniature Hermione!" He pointed to the girl his spell had hit. She was surrounded by at least fifteen large books, including Hogwarts, a History.  
  
  
After an apologetic farewell to the girl, Hermione hurried back to Harry and Ron, looking astonished. "Where did he learn that? They don't teach us that until the end of this year, it says so in -"  
  
  
"Hogwarts, A History?" Harry supplied, turning toward the direction of the common room.  
  
Hermione flushed. "Well, yes, actually. When done incorrectly it can be quite dangerous, and so in 1959 there was a convention held by -"  
  
  
She stopped short as Harry and Ron threw back their heads, pretending to snore. Hermione glared at them. "Okay, fine. You don't want to know, I won't tell you." She turned on her heel and stalked off down the corridor. Harry and Ron exchanged amused glances before chasing after her, shouting apologies as they went.  
  
  
***  
  
  
Harry stretched his fingers and sat back in his chair, having just finished a roll of parchment for Snape. Ron and Hermione sat on the couch opposite him, Ron trimming his quill and Hermione squinting at Ron's Charms homework, obviously trying to read his handwriting. He still had a chart of horoscopes to complete before bed, but he found that he didn't quite have the energy for it. Instead he analyzed the term so far, and wondered about the odd things that were occurring. They were a month into the term, and Harry still hadn't told Ron and Hermione about his scar. It was still hurting, though not often, and there hadn't been anything so far in the Daily Prophet, which he was still checking every morning.  
  
  
Harry wasn't quite sure how to feel about this. Of course, his immediate reaction was relief - he certainly didn't want to read about any deaths. But, on the other hand, this meant that there were other reasons for the pain in his scar - reasons he really wasn't too anxious to find out about.  
  
  
He glanced again at Ron and Hermione, who were arguing heatedly. "Here - let's ask Harry." Hermione was saying. She shoved a piece of parchment under Harry's nose. "Harry - is that an A or a U?" He stared at both of them in disbelief.  
  
  
"You two got all worked up over that?"  
  
  
"Well - it's for Professor Flitwick!" said Hermione indignantly. "You know that he's a perfectionist -"  
  
  
"Okay, okay," said Harry quickly, before Hermione could go into another one of her lectures. He examined the page. "Umm….looks like a U to me."  
  
  
"Thank you!" Ron exclaimed, snatching the parchment back. "See?" he said to Hermione, who was rolling her eyes, "Harry agrees with me!"  
  
  
"Moron," she muttered, punching him in the arm. Harry grinned as Ron hit her back, and pulled out his star chart. Nothing like Ron and Hermione to liven things up.  
  
  
A/N: Not much to say here, except….please review!  



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